A Second Chance
by Zakhar Vanzin
Summary: The trump card of Millennium, Captain Hans Günsche, finds himself still alive after his battle with Seras. Yet, he has no idea where he is or why he is there. Warning: This story ships Schrodinger and the Captain. Rated T for occasional swearing and more intimate segments. It's Hellsing for frack's sake.
1. Waking Up

**A few notes prior to starting...**  
**1) The following takes place in between the events of the ending of the main events in the Hellsing: Ultimate series, and the epilogue of what goes on thirty years afterward when we see Alucard's return and what not. The exact time I shall leave a secret, because I'd like to leave that up to you to guess. Not to mention I've not thought it up myself, yet...**  
**2) To make things easier for myself, the writer, as well as you, the reader, I have taken the liberty of making chunks of text in a chapter – a 'scene', if you like – separate via the use of some ellipses. A simple ... in between lines of text indicate a 'scene change' which makes things easily flow and easy to follow without making a whole new chapter every couple of paragraphs. Do bear in mind that there are none in this first chapter due to the pathetic length, however.**  
**3) I greatly enjoy reviews, more specifically, any constructive criticism you can provide. I am far from a good writer, and can use plenty of improvement with the help of readers giving me feedback and pointing me in the right direction.**  
**With that out of the way, let us begin. I hope you enjoy this horrid tale.**

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In a large grassy field, the infamous trump card of Millennium – the Captain – would awake with a powerful twitch. Wide-eyed, he quickly looked around at where he was the best he could from his position. Flat on the ground on his back, he didn't exactly have a fantastic view. Terrified and confused, he sprung into a more upright position. This was a bad idea, as he suddenly felt a great pain in his chest. The silver shoved there by his vampiric opponent's other half had gone, but the damage it had left behind was severe. He wore his coat, but it was open, leaving most of his chest and stomach open to the air. Blood was pouring from the hole in the left side of his chest, though not by the amount it was when he-

Wait a second, he should be dead. He -was- dead, right? Well, obviously not. This perplexed the wolf man about as much as his location did. Looking at his wound for another moment, he determined that there were no traces of silver left. The burning sensation he would feel should the pure metal touch his skin was not present, either. All that was there was the throbbing and aching of proper damage which was caused by that element.

Keeping his coat open, the wolf-man got up to his feet. Being as tall as he was, he could get a good look around. Standing in place, slowly turning in a circle as he scanned all that he could spot near and far, he came to the conclusion that he was in the middle of nowhere. What a helpful discovery indeed. Something that did interest him, however, was a white house across the field. It had two floors, and even from this distance, the man could tell that it was rather old. Not to mention it was of Welsh or English make. Well, probably. Now he was just guessing. He needed assistance for his wounds. Mainly the one which was causing his uniform to turn from a forest green to a dark scarlet.

As he limped forward, he discovered that his arms had returned – and he was using them to absent-mindedly check himself over. He had his guns, a couple magazines, and his dress ribbons. Odd, he didn't have those on his person when he was last conscious… It was as he slowly made his way to the one dot of civilization that his mind quickly wandered to the question of, 'Did any of the others survive?' Followed quickly by the more pertinent question with an answer he moreso wanted, 'Is Schrodinger okay?'

Both he and the young boy were rather close. In spite of their obvious differences – the Warrant Officer being spliced with a feline, and Hans a proper Werewolf – the two bonded quite a bit. The opposites attract rule was certainly in play, here. The quite, reserved Captain becoming fast friends with the cheeky and chatty 'kitten' in their ranks. The Captain always acted in defense of the boy, forming a very close and personal attachment after a rather short period.

As his mind wandered, and he slowly drew closer to the building, he then came to the idea that it may have been his love himself that saved him. Even though the savior all of them – save for the neko – wanted was a death in battle. Hans himself was well over one-hundred and fifty years old, after all. Having to constantly deal with being the number one soldier for these Nazi's and doing things which were standard as could be for the Third Reich were draining on him for sure. He was not a cruel man by nature, like the Major, the Doctor, or that annoying loud-mouth Yan Valentine. No, he wanted to help people if possible instead of shooting them or worse. Although, he really had no choice. This was the life he knew, but now? Now it was gone as far as he knew.

It was as these thoughts all drew to a close that he arrived to the front door of the lonely home in the middle of these plains. Giving a knock on the door, he awaited a reply, his free hand coming over his chest to close the half-open coat without him having to button it…

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**As amateurish as even I am, I must say that 'chapter' turned out quite a bit shorter than I expected. It's purpose was to be a taster, anyway. Not to mention the fact that the last time I wrote up a proper story and put it up anywhere was two years ago. Do bear with me, I promise the next chapter will be of proper length. Think of this as a prologue, if you like.**


	2. A New Friend

**So, because the first chapter was so disappointingly short by even my standards, I have decided to rush this next chapter out. I'm gonna try to go for the quality instead of quantity route in future, however, even though the prologue wasn't even up to snuff on either front. Anyway, let's get started.**

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Hans had just knocked on the door to the white building he encountered in the seemingly endless plains. He needed many things, but he was trying to go through them slowly - one at a time. He heard a light, feminine gasp from beyond the door which he firmly knocked on a moment before. This caused him to lean a bit back, the man otherwise hunched forward if anything as he barely held himself in a proper standing position. Soon enough, the door cracked open slightly as a clearly nervous woman stood on the other side - a solitary eye looking up and down the form of the tall man who was well over six feet in height.

"What do you want? Who are you?" She shakily asked, her accent clearly and undoubtibly Welsh. Yes, it was certain, he was still on the same island he was last time.

"I require medical assistance, if you can spare it..." The German said a moment later, gesturing to the gaping wound in his chest as he moved his arm to let his coat open - giving the woman an easy look.

Her face went from one of reserved and paranoid to shock and worry. For the man before her, not herself. He shouldn't be living with a hole like that in his chest... Much less standing before her and talking like it was just some kind of gash or cut in him. "Oh dear... Please, come right in, sir!" She said less than a second later, opening the door and moving out of the way. He was instantly greeted with the sight of a living room, which was decently sized. It contained a sofa, recliner, and any other bits and bobs as well as furniture that one would expect from a home like this. "Do lay down on the couch, I'll get some bandages." She didn't even offer to call for proper medical help. Was she just that kind of girl, or were they truly in the middle of nowhere? The Nazi thought this over as he limped over to, and laid down on, the couch.

He opened his coat more fully, his front from the waist up now revealed. It would be by now, waiting there for assistance from the kind woman - who was about a foot or more shorter than he - that he smirked to himself and chuckled lowly. This visit may not have been required if he hadn't given up his medical kit to that woman he shot in the cheek from Iscariot. He would hardly be in the best condition, but he'd be able to sustain himself decently enough without needing help.

"Alright... Lucky for you I used to be a nurse..." The Welsh girl would say, re-entering the living room from the stairwell going up the back wall. In one hand was a hardened plastic case of sorts, looking like some kind of emergency first aid kit to quickly grab and bring out should she need to evacuate. The eyes of the wolf followed her as she walked back into the room and around to him. He was so tall that he took up most of the couch, actually; the better part of his legs hanging over the end.

"Very lucky..." Hans replied quietly, eyes following her hand movements as they moved to softly look at the wound before she explored the insides of the trauma kit for exactly what she needed. Soon enough, out came a bottle of alcohol.

"I won't lie, this will hurt. Brace yourself." She warned, gaining a nod from the Nazi before she began sterilizing his gaping wound. He'd felt worse, but even this made the troop shiver and clench his fists. "You're doing good..." She said, delivering praise to him as she scrubbed the wound with an alcohol-soaked rag. She was as quick and gentle as she could be while still doing her job. Once the wound was sterile, she began going about the task of closing it up and bandaging it.

**...**

A grueling hour after the random soldier had shown up at her door, the Welsh woman had completed her mending of his injury. Once she was done, hole-like wound all covered up with an ungodly amount of gauze, she packed up the large medical kit - or what was left of it, rather - before standing and bringing it back up to where she initially got it from upstairs. In the meanwhile, the Captain, occupied with thoughts of his mate, continued to think of such things. Though these thoughts soon dwindled away to much more trivial subjects now that he wasn't in that much pain anymore.

The kind woman who just so happened to be a nurse recommended that he spend a bit of time still, just residing here in her home. He, naturally, declined this offer. Unfortunately, she was rather persistent, not to mention it was actually a good idea to stay in the mind of the Captain. For one night, at least.. She was suggesting a week, maybe longer. That would be standard for a human, but not him. Unless that silver is as powerful as he dreads it might be. No use in worrying about it now, he decided. He would go when he felt ready. Should she allow or disallow this would not matter. He was a good enough judge of his own condition, he thought. He has had his body for more than a century, after all.

So, for the time being, he just laid there and stared at the ceiling. Counting the small cracks or imperfections, thinking about whatever came to mind. It would be in the middle of his spending time with this that the owner of the house who already extended a great kindness to him timidly entered the room and snapped him out of his thought. He slightly tilted his head, fingers meshed with eachother as his hands rested on his stomach. His eyes going to look over the smaller woman.

"My name is Megan, by the way." She had said. It then dawned on Hans that he'd not introduced himself since he arrived, either. Trying to do so properly, he moved to a sitting position before standing with a low grunt. He held out a hand, offering a kind smile at the same time as he said "Mine is Hans, a pleasure. Thank you for tending to my wound, and allowing me to stay for an extended period should I need to." To be honest, he was rather embarrassed at not doing any of this earlier. That in addition to all she'd done for him - a stranger who just randomly showed up - made him quite flustered.

She took his hand in her own, gently shaking it as a smile grew on her own face at his formal introduction and thanks. Once this was done, however, he sat yet again with a sigh. "I hate to impose, but might you have a spare bedroom? I think that may suit me better than taking up your main room, here." Not wanting to be a bother, being more pleased with the idea of being out of the way, the Captain hoped that this inquiry would be answered with a yes.

Megan sighed, "Well, I do have a spare one, but it's also functioning as a storage room at current. Would that be alright with you, sir?"

Being called a sir was rare for werewolf. It tended to either be Captain, Herr, or even Hans to a select few. He nodded slowly at her speech, doing the action quicker once she was done speaking. "Yes, that would be fine. I just don't want to be in your way is all." He said flatly, his lips curled into a small smile of thanks to the circumstances.

"I can take you up there now, if you like. You should probably rest, anyway." The woman suggested, gaining a nod from the German who lumbered up to his feet yet again.

With a bit of assistance, the Captain was able to make it up the daunting flight of stairs and down the small hallway at the top. Guided by his humble host, the wounded troop was lead to the small guest bedroom and storage room. Thankfully, there was no dust to be seen, despite the room obviously being undisturbed for some time. "I think I'll take you up on that offer to get some rest." The man said once he sat on the side of the bed, testing the firmness before laying down on it and closing his eyes. Despite having just woken up in a field a bit ago, he was deathly tired.

The woman nodded at this, accepting the decision as she then said softly "Goodnight," before shutting the door. It was only mid-evening, but hey, he could sleep if he liked. For a brief period of time, the ex-Millennium officer would lie awake. He wasn't one to fall asleep in two minutes or less, and his head was full of questions. He was so lost and confused. He didn't know where he was, why he was there, what happened to everyone, and so on. He had countless questions, but he was sure that most of them would be answered as time went on. At least, after he awoke, that is.

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**With that, I wrap up another lazy chapter. In my defense, I was horribly tired as I wrote these, and I wrote them back-to-back. Not the best idea, but hey, I am gaining ideas for how I should make this story go on as I type this, which is good. Heres hoping you're willing to stick with it, as well as find it interesting.**


	3. Get To Know

The sleep that the Captain experienced was deep and restful, as one might expect from a man with a gaping hole through the left side of his chest caused by a piece of silver. Not to mention his other injuries which came about from going head-to-head with a powerful vampire. Unlike most werewolves, Hans could control when and where he transformed. He was a mature lycan, after all. The moon simply granted him power, it didn't cause a sudden transformation like it would for a younger wolfman who had less mastery over their power. While his sleep was deep and refreshing, it was a little troubled by dreams of Millennium. Not to mention the stress that was slowly packing onto him as he got anxious to discover what happened to the rest of his people.

He was aware of Schrodingers fate, but was holding out hope that by some miracle the young boy survived in a similar way to how the Captain did. The rest of the organization he could care less about. Hans was never a proper Nazi, after all. Sure, he was an Arian, having a strong body with what used to be blue eyes and blonde hair. Now, his hair had become white, to indicate his age. His eyes were also red, as he became more wolf than man as time passed. When he was still young, he was the textbook definition of one of the master race. Strong, tall, smart, and so on. One trait that didn't define him as a Nazi, however, was his kindness and his drive not to kill unless he needed to.

Similar to the pity and mercy he showed with that German from Iscariot, Hans was never one to kill without reason. Should he be tasked with killing people who in themselves were harmless, he would instruct those individuals to flee, lying to his superiors and saying that he had done the job when really his targets were alive and well. One could therefore say rather easily that, with the potential exception of Walter, the Captain was the most sane of the last battalion. This excludes those members of the German Navy who were in charge of piloting and maintaining the fleet of zeppelins which the group used to travel. While those men and women had a drive for war, they were hardly insane. They were more like normal people with a bit of a grudge. They couldn't compete with the blood lust that the Major had, either, for that matter.

With a slight gasp, the eyes of the werewolf shot open. His heart was racing, and he felt as though he was sweating even though not a drop of moisture was anywhere on his skin. He quickly calmed down, however, soon closing his eyes and sighing as he laid there. He rather quickly determined that he'd just awoken from a nightmare which he had no memory of. It seemed as though it was a good time to awaken, however, as there was early morning sunlight coming in through the window which projected lines on the floor and the wall. Some particles of dust suspended in front of the sunlight, making a peculiar sight as it often did.

Mindful of his wound this time, the Ex-Nazi - at least in his mind - sat up and pulled his coat open. The once white bandage now having red soaked into it, but the overall size of the wound had gone down. Ready to try and stand, the man moved to where he was sitting on the side of the bed with his legs dangling over. It was low enough that the bottom of his boots - which he never took off - scraped the floor of the cluttered room. He grunted, and with a bit of effort, he moved from sitting on the edge of the modestly sized bed to standing on his own two feet. He felt little to no pain in his body, most of the damage from his previous engagement having healed - the only thing that really remained being due to the silver.

He began to slowly stretch. His legs, arms, back, you name it. He got as many muscles as he could, his joints cracking one by one as he became more relaxed and loosened up. Soon enough, he begat actually walking. His left leg, then his right, back and forth. The casual observer wouldn't notice, but the Lycan was actually doing a self check-up of sorts as he walked along. He was making sure he was alright, save for the obvious. Thankfully, for the most part, he seemed to be. Once he stepped out of the room he slept in, a wall of scent hit him. Said scent smelled like a typical breakfast of fried eggs and toast. This simple dish was something the wolfman hadn't experienced in a number of years. 'Military food' was what he was used to for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Everyone was, save for on special occasions when officers like he, the Major, Zorin, and so on would have a proper meal and things to drink.

The last one of those was a couple months back, and Hans didn't even eat much of it. He was mostly sticking around Schrodinger, practically taking the place of a parent to the boy. God knows he needed one in a place like this, Nazi ideals aside. The Doctor himself who made the boy what he was didn't even act like any sort of proper authority figure, which really perplexed the Hauptsturmführer. Although, the boy also seemed close to Rip Van Winkle. The woman honestly made Hans uneasy, but when she kept herself in check - an easy feat when she wasn't in combat - she was fairly hospitable. Still a bit creepy to Hans, though. Even with the fact that she was a better choice than, say, Zorin. That wouldn't go well at all in the Captain's mind.

These memories aside, the man made his way down the stairs - unassisted - and walked into the kitchen where two plates of food were sitting, still steaming from their heat. Megan, meanwhile, taking care of the pan she must have used in the sink. Hearing the other occupant of the home step into the room, the woman with her sparkling blue eyes, black hair, and lithe body turned her head to look at him and offer a smile. "Good morning," She would say before returning to rinsing off the pan.

With a nod to the woman, Hans buttoned up his coat. All patched up, there was no real reason to leave it open. "Morning, miss," He graciously replied a moment later. He then went over to the table where breakfast was, taking a seat before one of the plates. He didn't dare eat yet, saying to her "Thank you for the food," but still not eating. He waited for her to sit down, then he would give her a nod, and start digging in.

Her kindness really did baffle the humble Captain. He'd not been there for more than twenty-four hours and she'd made him food, gave him a room, and mended to his large amount of wounds. Well, the one massive one, rather. She must have also noticed that his uniform was of Nazi make, too. Yet, she still was taking care of him. The sound of silverwear clicking against ceramic was soon heard as the two began eating. No words were really said, the Captain eating rather conservitavely while Megan ate fairly normally and casually as well. It was not until they finished their meals at around the same time that any more speech was exchanged. This action done first by the kind Welsh woman.

"I hope you liked it, I've not cooked for two in quite some time." She spoke softly, sounding a bit timid as she stood and picked up both of their plates to go wash them.

"It was excellent, thank you," The German replied, keeping his eyes on her as she moved. He himself remained seated and still otherwise, however. He would offer a nervous smile, before quickly exchanging it for a straight face. "I thank you for the help you've given me as well," He said honestly when looking to her back as she rinsed off the dishes.

She paused at that, before smiling to herself and continuing scrubbing off the little amount of filth that was left behind on the plates. "It's not in my nature to turn down anyone who needs help, especially someone who has a wound in their chest the size of a dinner plate..." She joked, eliciting the slightest smirk from the Captain.

"For that, I am very grateful," He said with that same smile on his face.

Soon enough, she would turn around, the Captain keeping his eyes on her as his neutral expression returned. His eyes went to rest on hers as she gave another timid grin. However, before she could speak, Hans decided to speak up, "You recognize my uniform, do you not?" He inquired bluntly.

Megan blinked at this, but nodded, "Yes, sir. It's one from the Afrika Corps... Right?" She asked.

This gained a nod from the wolf-man, "And which military force were the Afrika Corps a part of?"

"The Third Reich, of course. A part of the Nazi army," She replied.

The man nodded again, "Correct. As far as you know, I'm a full Nazi - coming to you with strange injuries and somehow still being alive, I might not even be human." His red eyes flashed at this, the girl not moving, which was probably a smart decision.

She shrugged, "You've not brought a party of other Nazis with you, and you're not telling me of 'the glory of the third reich' like some preacher. Not to mention I don't think you'd hurt someone if you could help it, even if you weren't human."

"How would you tell that?" He quickly retorted.

"Your eyes... Red and old they may be, they're still docile and kind. Your behavior so far has shown as such, too," She said with a smile.

Hans couldn't help but smirk at that and shake his head, looking down at the table. "You play the part of a medic quite well, you know?" He would say.

This got a giggle from the girl, "I suppose my brief time as a nurse served me well. Speaking of which, we should probably re-dress your wound."

The man looked to her again, and nodded, standing slowly as he walked to the living room and laid on the couch in the same place as the prior operation. As he laid there, he opened up his coat and lifted the shirt under it while Megan gathered her doctoring materials. The girl on her knees beside the couch, the medical kit on the coffee table, the woman looked over the bandage and shook her head. The thing looked like it had been dipped in a vat of blood completely - the once dry and crisp white thing now a deep, slightly damp crimson.

"You're not human, are you?" She asked, moving to unwrap the thinner bandages she used as a brace to keep the main bandage in place over the gaping hole in his chest. She went slow and gently, as one may expect.

"Don't be silly... Of course I'm human." He said, lying clean and true which gained an eye roll from the Welsh woman.

As she took off the soaked bandage square, her eyes widened a bit - the once massive hole in his chest having shrunk by quite the amount. She looked to his eyes with a risen eyebrow and an unamused expression as she put the used bandage off to the side. "Considering you were still standing and coherent when you came to my door, and you're still alive now with minor medical attention, and the fact that your wound is already starting to close up says otherwise." She said, moving to get a clean rag and some rubbing alcohol to scrub out the wound.

Hans sighed, "So I have a tolerance for pain, big deal..." He would say, trying his hardest not to display shifty eyes.

Megan doused a bit of the rag with the alcohol, moving it to the wound and starting to scrub it firmly but slowly. Hans gritted his teeth and remained still, but otherwise seemed uneffected. "You said yourself you might not be human, and I would believe it. The Nazis were known for their messing around in occult type stuff, weren't they? Not to mention I've heard the rumors of things like Hellsing, vampires, ghouls, and so forth." She shrugged casually as she continued cleaning the wound.

The Captain huffed, sighing yet again, "Fine, you caught me," he would say - giving the woman the slightest bit of satisfaction as she removed that towel and set it off to the side while she got a new bandage.

"I won't bother asking what you really are, as I doubt you want to tell me. I just want for you to be upfront and honest with me while you're here. That's why I didn't acknowledge your uniform, I wanted you to be comfortable and not suspect resentment or anything." She then gently blew on the wound, the alcohol evaporating quickly as she prepared another large, square, white bandage.

He simply nodded to her words and no more, slowly closing his eyes as he soon felt the fabric of another clean bandage cover over his wound and gently press down on it before it was secured in place.

"All done," She said with a smile, now cleaning up the refuse of the 'operation.'

It was at this point that Hans weakly opened his eyes, staying in place as he looked up at the woman. "I'll be out of your hair in a few more days," he said, "I heal quickly."

The girl nodded and sighed, "I gathered... But you don't need to leave immediately when you're healed, you know." She said, looking back over to him. "You can stay here with me... Start a new life. Going by your wound and the expression you had when you first arrived, you were completely out of your normal stride."

Hans shook his head, but gave no vocal protest. Instead, he hummed lowly before closing his eyes again, "I'll consider it..." He mumbled, barely loud enough for himself to hear.


End file.
